


The Fine Art of Collaborative Storytelling

by Anonymous



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Especially for a party of Gryffindors, He puts in the hours, OOC because canon Tom’s not a big enough masochist to be a DM, Tom is a serious DM, dungeons & dragons AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2020-01-12 00:40:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18435458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous/pseuds/Anonymous
Summary: Harry, Ron, and Hermione are adventurers on a quest to save the world, and they’ll do so using the most unconventional methods they can imagine.Tom Riddle is an exasperated dungeon master and ready for this campaign to be over.





	The Fine Art of Collaborative Storytelling

**Author's Note:**

> I’m certain Gygax and Rowling are both very proud.

“Before we go charging in, I’d like to take a look around the room.”

“Of course, roll for perception.”

“Hmm, that’s a thirteen.”

Tom nodded and scanned his notes, “From outside the doorway you can see most of the room, with the closest walls still hidden. It’s about twenty paces wide and just as many deep. Near the back sits a massive crystal. It is deep red and opaque, and though its edges are carved flawlessly, it rests askew on its side. A circle of runes are carved into the surrounding wooden floor, obscured by a fine layer of dust. The room appears otherwise empty.” 

He peered over his dungeon master screen at the party. They were crowded around a small table in a quiet corner of the common room. A gridded map was spread in the center with three small plastic figures clustered to one side. Harry, Ron, and Hermione each had a pile of dice and loose sheets of paper in front of them, and in any free space remaining were short stacks of books. Next to Tom, a small circular device was emitting quiet ambient noises.

Hermione was nodding along as he spoke, pencil waggling between her fingers. Ron’s eyes were fixed on his character sheet, occasionally glancing across the dungeon map at the other party members pages. He’d nibble briefly on the tip of his eraser with a thoughtful expression, before quickly looking back to his own notes. Harry fiddled with his dice. 

Steepling his fingers, Tom leaned forward and said, “What do you do?”

Harry was the first to respond, “Well, let’s walk on in. Not much we can do from out in the hallway.”

“We should at least check for traps first!” Hermione said.

“There’s only one object in the entire room—”

“That we know of! We have magic, I think some precautions are worth using a spell slot.”

Tom allowed the adventurers to debate amongst themselves. The could prepare all they wanted, he was certain they’d never predict the exact mechanics of the trap he had waiting. Afterall, he’d ensured the party was already carrying the trigger. It had been months since Harrys character had discovered the gaudy golden locket, recklessly claiming it without fully discovering its secrets. Ever since then it had hung from his neck, neatly tucked beneath his shirt, lying in wait.

Certain of how the scene would unfold, he opened his miniatures case with a soft ‘click.’ He slipped out his most prized figure, custom designed and hand painted, and hid it behind his dungeon masters screen. For two long years he’d run this campaign, and throughout every adventure he’d left hints, small allusions to a villainous master mind but always keeping him just out of notice. Today he stepped into the light.

He was startled out of his reverie as Harry slammed a palm on the table.

“Clearly we aren’t getting anywhere just standing here arguing. My character is tired of waiting and enters the room,” He slid his figure across the threshold, and left his hand hovering above the others, “Are you two following me?”

Hermione huffed and Ron rolled his eyes, but as they each nodded in assent Harry moved their figures to flank his.

“Very well. As you cross over the threshold, you see a glow appear in the center of the room. It pulses softly, growing with each beat. Harry,” Tom pointed at the aforementioned player, “You feel a warmth pressed against your chest. You notice your locket is glowing with the same eerie light.”

He flicked his wrist, and the dungeon ambience that was quietly playing built into an ominous tune. “The glow increases in intensity, filling the room, and you see crackles of magic crash from its center. Finally, a blinding flash and a thundering crack, and the light disappears. In its place stands a towering figure.” 

He clasped his hands together and cast a look across the party, “With that, I need everyone to roll a wisdom saving throw.”

The clatter of dice followed by a chorus of groans was all the answer he needed.

“You each feel a brush of magic against you, starting near your ankles. It twists up your bodies and begins to solidify, and you feel newly formed scales pressed against your skin. Each of you are now wrapped in the coils of three enormous serpents. They tighten around your limbs and throats, leaving you unable to move or speak for the duration.”

“Seems a bit forward. We just met and already he has us bound and gagged.” Ron said, raising an eyebrow.

Tom pointedly ignored him, “The figure begins to laugh, cold and cruel. His skin is deathly pale, a stark contrast to his pitch-black robes. His features are distorted and reptilian. In one hand he holds a long wooden staff, its gnarled end is embedded with flecks of glittering red, matching the giant crystal beside him. He is the shadow you’ve heard whispers of, the terrifying Lord Voldemort.” 

Tom lowered his voice to a hiss, “He says, ‘You’ve performed admirably up to this point, but I’m afraid your adventure ends here.’ You see him reach out and slowly stroke his hand across the crystals surface.” He pantomimed the motion with his own hand.

“ _Practically fondling it_ ,” Harry whispered to Ron.

Tom shot a glare in their direction, and continued, “As he touches the crystal you see it’s magic manifest, it pours into him and his staff begins to harden—"

Hermione interrupted, “His _what_ begins to _what_!?”

“This really is getting explicit. Can I roll to see if I’m aroused?” Harry snatched up his die.

“I just said a moment ago that he was holding a wooden staff.”

Ron snorted, “Yeah, and now you’re telling us his wood got hard”

“It’s _crystalizing_ if you’d just let me fi—"

“I rolled an eighteen, so my staff gets hard too,” Harry gave Tom a _look_ , “You know between all these giant snakes and hard staffs I’m beginning to think you’re _wanting_ us to come onto this guy.”

Tom turned to him, acid dripping from his voice, “Harry he is a _monster_. He’s scaled, he has a snake face, you cannot possibly find him—"

“Hot. Guys I think I might be a scalie.”

Hermione placed a gentle hand over Harrys, “My character is proud of you for sharing that with us Harry, I for one am happy to support you as you explore this new part of your identity.”

Harry beamed at her, “You’re a true friend Hermione,” He rounded on Tom, “Since I’m now facing him down with an erection, I’ll go ahead and note scalie on my character sheet. Sound reasonable to you Tom?”

Tom was wary of the mischievous glint in his eye, but he yielded, “It’s your character, his personality is up to—”

“Great, wonderful, brilliant,” Harry cut him off and, without breaking eye contact, dashed an illegible scribble across the page in front of him. “In that case I believe there’s only one course of action we can take, really.” The smile he gave Tom was a sweet as it was false, “I’d like to charm him.” 

Toms eyes narrowed, “You cannot cast charm if you cannot speak.”

“Who needs to cast spells when you can cast sultry glances.” Harry leaned forward, cupping his chin in his hands, “I’d like to writhe around in my bindings, and hit him with my most seductive look. No words. Only pure, lustful stares.”

Tom sighed. Of course they’d try this route, “Fine, roll your dice already.”

Harry plucked the dice from his bag and gave them a rough shake. They clattered between his hands, and he flung them carelessly onto the center of the map, knocking Ron’s figure askew. The dice settled, and silence.

Ron whistled.

“Well that’s a natural twenty, plus my—”

“I know what your modifiers are you don’t need to list them all out—”

“And I’m proficient in persuasion so I add—”

“I have your character sheet right in front of me. I am staring at your stat page at this very moment.”

“and that comes out to a total of forty-fucking-three. Tell me Tom, is that charming enough for him? Is he _wooed_?”

Tom sighed, “I cannot believe you are doing this you walking trope.”

“How hard is his staff now?” Harry’s eyebrows waggled at an alarming rate.

Tom threw his arms into the air, scattering his notes, “Fuck! Fine! The great and powerful Lord Voldemort hesitates. Your sibilant seductions have had their desired effect, piercing his focus. You see the faintest of flushes appear high on his otherwise pale cheeks. Though he has heard many tales of your adventures, he was thoroughly unaware of the extent of your _fucking broken_ charm. He loses concentration and you’re released from the spell.”

Harry positively preened as he slid his figure across the map, “I run right up and kiss him.”

“ _get it_ Harry.”

Tom stared at him, “I cannot stress this enough, but he has no lips because _he has a snake face_.”

Harry shrugged, “He’s got a mouth, right? Just with less obstacles. For my mouth. Which is now firmly planted onto his.”

Tom made a strangled noise.

Ron reached across the table, righted his downed figure, and pointedly faced it away from the rest. “For the record, my character is very uncomfortable with all this snake kissing business.”

“Ronald Weasley!” Hermione gave him a mock shove, jutted out her chin as she spoke, “You need to be more supportive of your friends! This is a pivotal moment for Harrys character development.” 

“Since he doesn’t have lips, do I have advantage if I wanna roll for some tongue?” Harry said as his hand twitched towards his dice pile.

“ _No_!” Tom snapped, waving his pencil aggressively in Harry’s direction. “No, you absolutely do not get advantage. If anything, you should be getting disadvantage. Have you ever kissed someone without lips before? Have you? Got that hidden away somewhere on your character sheet? I think _not_. In fact, Lord Voldemort should be the one with advantage on this roll, what with his snake ton—” Tom stopped himself, realizing too late he was indulging their antics.

A broad grin spreading across Harrys face. “That’s perfectly fine with me.” He snatched up his dice and tossed them onto the map before Tom could argue.

“Well looks like that’s a twel—oh, wait no with disadvantage that’s a three.” 

Ron placed two dice into Toms hand and gave him a rough slap on the back, “C’mon now Tom, roll and let’s see if Lord Voldewhatsit wins this round.”

Tom was barely aware of himself as he tossed the dice neatly into his rolling tray, a blank stare on his face. They tumbled briefly before falling still. He didn’t bother to look.

Hermione hummed softly, “Never thought I’d be happy to see a villain roll so high.”

“Well I’d say my characters tongue has been thoroughly dominated. I’d like to inform the rest of the party that Lord Voldemort is an excellent—”

Tom tuned out the rest as Harry continued to narrate the details of his seduction. He slowly leaned forward until his forehead pressed firmly onto the table, sweeping aside years of painstakingly crafted notes. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Harry swipe their miniatures off the table and begin mashing the faces together. He wondered if the paint would chip. A mindless flick of his wrist and his villains theme faded. In its place, a trumpeting fanfare.

The party cheered victory.

Tom quietly screamed.

**Author's Note:**

> Broke: Their tongues battled for dominance
> 
> Woke: Their tongues made contested strength checks


End file.
